by Debra Webb
They had made their plan last night. He had already scheduled a few days to visit his parents, but he’d put that off for this assignment. He wanted to take her to Seattle this very evening. She had agreed.
No one was going to stop him.
She had been worried about clothes. He had laughed and said he would buy her a whole new wardrobe.
He held out his hand. “We should get going. You ready?”
“I’m ready.”
He’d already done the in-room checkout, so there was no reason to stop at the registration desk. They exited via the stairwell again. The parking lot was clear. They were in the car and exiting the lot in under three minutes.
The route he’d mapped out went off without a hitch. He found a church at which to park and made the call for an Uber pickup.
Ali grew more nervous with each passing moment. She couldn’t keep her hands still. Her eyes roved the parking lot.
“I was thinking,” he said, drawing her attention to him. “My apartment is kind of small, and they don’t allow pets.”
Her gaze widened at the idea that Bob wouldn’t be allowed at his place.
“Once we’ve spent a couple of days with the family, we should probably look for a house. Something with a yard for Bob.”
Her lips spread into a smile, and the sheer joy in her eyes affected the rhythm of his heart. “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”
“I am absolutely certain,” he confirmed. “I want us to start our new life right away. No more waiting. No putting anything off. Life is too short and too precious.”
She stretched across the console and kissed his lips. “I want you to promise me something.”
Her face had gone completely serious now.
“Name it.” Anything she wanted, if he had the power to make it happen, he intended to.
“Promise me that if you suddenly realize that you’ve made the wrong decision—” He opened his mouth to argue, but she stopped him with her fingers. “If you’ve made this decision out of some sense of guilt and you come to realize that going back to what we had before is not what you really want, swear to me that you’ll tell me. I don’t want you spending your life trying to make up for a decision you made at twenty-two.”
“You have my word,” he said instead of countering. “If I decide for some reason that I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with you or that I don’t want you to be my wife and have children with me, then I’ll let you know.”
She blinked, startled. “What did you say?”
“Which part?” He might be enjoying this a little too much.
“The part in the middle just before the mention of children.”
“I want you to marry me, Ali. Tonight, tomorrow, next week, whenever is good for you.”
She threw her arms around him, and they hugged. “I love you,” he whispered against her hair. “I have for more than a decade.”
Ali drew back and looked into his eyes. “I love you, too.”
He swept a strand of hair from her cheek. Before he could say more, he spotted the car he was expecting. The driver matched the photo he’d been sent.
“Here’s our ride.”
He climbed out and walked around to her door. When she emerged, she took his hand and said, “Don’t get shot, okay?”
He grinned. “You got it.”
* * *
THE CAR PULLED to the curb in front of the entrance to the federal building. Ali’s heart was pounding so heart she could scarcely breathe.
Immediately a line of uniforms formed on either side of the car door from which they would emerge.
“Ready?”
She nodded.
As the car door opened, something large and black like some sort of tarp was stretched out overhead. Jax climbed out of the car and reached for her hand. She joined him on the sidewalk. As planned, the uniforms closed in around them. She and Jax hunkered down and moved with the mass of uniforms through the doors.
Once they were inside, she managed a breath. The other marshals took over from there, surrounding them and ushering them toward the elevator.
They stepped into the car, and Ali struggled to hold back a looming panic attack. She would not let this happen. Not now. What she was about to do was one of the most important steps in her life. She would not fail.
She and Jax were sequestered in a private room until it was time for her to enter the courtroom. There hadn’t been time to don bulletproof vests. At this point it was no longer necessary. They were inside, well guarded, and anyone who stepped into that courtroom would be, as well.
A few minutes later, she was escorted to the courtroom, Jax at her side. Silence fell over the room as she walked to the witness box. Jax sat behind the AUSA. She stood facing the courtroom, and her gaze immediately lit on Harrison Armone Sr. She stared at him, unflinching. He was surrounded by a team of attorneys, but they would not win. Not this time.
While her former father-in-law stared at her, she took the oath to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. She sat down, and as she did, she smiled at him. She wanted him to know how very much she intended to enjoy this day.
* * *
MORNING HAD GIVEN way to late afternoon by the time Ali was finished. They had taken a lunch break and she’d spent that time in the private room with Jax. She hadn’t been able to eat. She wasn’t sure she could again until she was far away from here.
When she was dismissed, she was escorted out of the courtroom just as she had been when she entered.
Another few minutes were required for her and Jax to be whisked away from the courthouse via a route where they wouldn’t be trapped by reporters. Jax had turned over the keys to the borrowed car and given one of the other marshals a list of items owed to the owner.
To Ali’s surprise, Marshal Holloway and his friend Chief Brannigan showed up to drive them to the airport.
“You’re looking far better,” she said to Holloway.
“I don’t feel as much like death, that’s for sure,” he said with a laugh.
She hugged him gently and thanked him again for all he’d done to keep her safe for six long months. He promised to see that Bob arrived safely in Seattle in a couple of weeks. Jax hadn’t told her until they were out of the courthouse that he’d already put in for a transfer back to Seattle. He would be on vacation until the transfer was approved.
Two and a half hours later, she and Jax were sitting in first-class seats headed to Seattle.
“I’m thinking,” she said, “we should take a honeymoon.” She was feeling bold after a lovely cocktail.
Jax chuckled. “Don’t you think we should get married first?”
She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Maybe we’ll just do it simultaneously. You know, go to some exotic place and get married there.”
“We could,” he agreed. “But then we’d have to face the wrath of my mother and my sister. They’ve been waiting for this wedding for a long time.”
Ali laughed so hard she lost her breath. “Usually that would be the bride’s line.”
He pressed his forehead to hers. “We’ll do whatever you want to do, Ali. As long as you say, ‘I do.’”
“Well, I can do that right now, Marshal. I so do.”
She sealed that promise with a kiss.
* * *
Read on for an excerpt of
The Darkness We Hide,
Debra Webb’s next book in the
Undertaker’s Daughter series!
WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS BOOK FROM
Seek thrills. Solve crimes. Justice served.
Dive into action-packed stories that will keep you on the edge of your seat. Solve the crime and deliver justice at all costs.
6 NEW BOOKS AVAILABLE EVERY MONTH!
The Darkness We Hide
by Debra W
ebb
RIP
Burton Johnston
May 5, 1940–March 9, 2020
Burton Johnston was born in Winchester, Tennessee, on May 5, 1940. He was a loving husband and a respected public servant. His work with the healing of animals made him one of the most beloved citizens in all of Franklin County. He served as county coroner for four decades. Despite being nearly eighty years old, Burt worked every day. He loved his work and his hometown. He will be greatly missed. Burt was predeceased by his beloved wife, Mildred. He is survived by a sister, Sally Jernigan, of Tullahoma.
The family will receive friends on Thursday, March 12, 6:00 to 8:00 p.m., at the DuPont Funeral Home. The family has requested donations to the Franklin County Animal Shelter in lieu of flowers.
One
Winchester, Tennessee
Monday, March 9, 7:35 a.m.
Rowan DuPont parked on the southeast side of the downtown square. The county courthouse sat smack in the middle of Winchester with streets forming a grid around it. Shops, including a vintage movie theater, revitalized over the past few years by local artisans, lined the sidewalks. Something Rowan loved most about her hometown were the beautiful old trees that still stood above all else. So often the trees were the first things to go when towns received a facelift. Not in Winchester. The entire square had been refreshed, and the majestic old trees still stood.
This morning the promise of spring was impossible to miss. Blooms and leaves sprouted from every bare limb. This was her favorite time of year. A new beginning. Anything could happen.
Rowan sighed. Funny how being back in Winchester had come to mean so much to her these past several months. As a teenager she couldn’t wait to get away from home. Growing up in a funeral home had made her different from the other kids. She was the daughter of the undertaker, a curiosity. At twelve tragedy had struck, and she’d lost her twin sister and her mother within months of each other. The painful events had driven her to the very edge. By the time she finished high school, she was beyond ready for a change of scenery. Despite having spent more than twenty years living in the big city, hiding from the memories of home, and a dozen of those two decades working with Nashville’s Metro Police Department—in Homicide, no less—she had been forced to see that there was no running away. No hiding from the secrets of her past.
There were too many secrets, too many lies, to be ignored.
Yet, despite all that had happened the first eighteen years of her life, she was immensely glad to be back home.
If only the most painful part of her time in Nashville—serial killer Julian Addington—hadn’t followed her home and wreaked havoc those first months after her return.
Rowan took a breath and emerged from her SUV. The morning air was brisk and fresh. More glimpses of spring’s impending arrival showed in pots overflowing with tulips, daffodils and crocuses. Those same early bloomers dotted the landscape beds all around the square. It was a new year, and she was very grateful to have the previous year behind her.
She might not be able to change the past, but she could forge a different future, and she intended to do exactly that.
Closing the door, she smiled as she thought of the way Billy had winked at her as he’d left this morning. He’d settled that cowboy hat onto his handsome head, flashed that sexy smile and winked, leaving her heart fluttering. Four months ago he’d moved into the funeral home with her. The 150-year-old three-story house didn’t feel nearly so lonely now. She and Billy had been friends most of their lives and, in truth, she had been attracted to him since she was thirteen or fourteen. But she’d never expected a romantic relationship to evolve. Billy Brannigan was a hometown hero. The chief of police and probably the most eligible bachelor in all of Franklin County. He could have his pick of any of the single women around town. Rowan hadn’t expected to be his choice.
She had always been too work oriented to bother with long-term relationships. Too busy for dating on a regular basis.
Billy had made her want long term. He made her believe anything was possible, even moving beyond her tragic past.
The whole town was speculating on when the wedding invitations would go out. Rowan hadn’t even considered the possibility. This place where she and Billy were was comfortable. It felt good. Particularly since fate had given them a break the past four months. No trouble beyond the regular, everyday sort. No calls or notes from Julian. No unexplained bodies turning up. And no serial killers had appeared looking for Rowan.
Life was strangely calm and oddly normal.
She would never say as much to Billy, but it was just a little terrifying. The worry that any day, any moment, the next bad thing would happen stalked her every waking moment. Somehow she managed to keep that worry on the back burner. But it was there, waiting for an opportunity to seep into her present.
“Not today,” she said aloud.
Today was important. She and Burt Johnston, the county coroner, had breakfast on Monday mornings. She locked her vehicle and started for the sidewalk. The Corner Diner was a lunch staple in Winchester. Had been since the end of the Great Depression. Attorneys and judges who had court often frequented the place for lunch. Most anyone who was someone in the area could be found at the diner. More deals and gossip happened here than in the mayor’s office.
But breakfast with the coroner wasn’t the only event that made this day so important.
Today she intended to offer her assistant, Charlotte Kinsley, a promotion and a part ownership in the funeral home. Since there were no more DuPonts—Rowan had no children and couldn’t say if that would ever happen—she needed to bring someone into the family business. Someone younger who could carry on the DuPont legacy.
Rowan paused outside the diner. The iron bench that sat beneath the plate-glass window was empty. Surprise furrowed her brow. Burt usually waited there for her. She surveyed the cars lining the sidewalks as far as the eye could see. No sign of Burt’s. He was never late, but there was always a first time. After all, he wasn’t exactly a young man anymore.
She sank down onto the bench, dug her cell phone from her bag and sent him a text. She was the one who generally kept him waiting, and he never once complained. She certainly wasn’t going to do so. His car was a little on the vintage side, as well. Maybe he had car trouble this morning. Worry gnawed at her. A dead battery or a flat tire. Surely he would have called her.
“Morning, Rowan.”
She glanced up, smiling automatically. Lance Kirby, one of the attorneys who was not fortunate enough to have an office on the square. The ones who had been around a lifetime held on to that highly sought-after real estate. The others, like Kirby, waited patiently for someone to retire or to die. Meanwhile they showed up for coffee in this highly visible location bright and early every morning.
“Good morning, Lance.”
Kirby was a couple of years older than her. He’d lived in Winchester his entire life other than the years he spent at college and law school. He was divorced and had three kids. He’d asked Rowan out to dinner on several occasions. She hoped he didn’t ask again this morning. Coming up with an excuse to turn him down was becoming tedious. Surely he was aware that she and Billy were a couple now.
The idea startled her a little. This was the first time in her life that she was half of a couple in the truest sense of the word.
“If you’re waiting for Burt, he’s parked around back. Every spot around the square was taken before seven this morning.” Kirby reached for the door. “People have come early hoping for a chance to get into the Winters trial. Everyone wants to hear the story on that family.”
Rowan had been reading about the trial for weeks in the Winchester Gazette. “That explains why I had to circle around for a while before I found a spot.” She’d forgotten about the small parking area in the back alley behind the diner. “Thanks for telling me. I was worried he’d stood me up.”
&nb
sp; Kirby laughed. “I don’t think any man still breathing would stand you up, Rowan.”
She glanced at her cell phone as if it had vibrated. “Oops. I have to take this.”
The instant she set the phone to her ear, Kirby went on inside the diner, the bell over the door jingling to announce his entrance.
Thank goodness.
For appearances’ sake, she kept the phone to her ear a half a minute, then put it away. To pass the time, she counted the yellow daffodils brimming in the rock planter built around the tree at the edge of the sidewalk. Those lovely yellow flowers were coming up all around the funeral home, too. Her mother had loved gardening. Maybe her mother had hoped to chase away some of the gloom associated with living in a funeral home.
Somehow her father had managed to keep her mother’s extensive gardens alive and thriving for all those years. Since her father’s death, Rowan had hired a gardener, because she did not have a green thumb at all. She had killed every plant she’d ever tried to nurture. She was not going to be the one who dropped the ball on the family garden.
She glanced up, then down, the sidewalk. Still no sign of Burt. With a sigh, she pushed to her feet. Maybe he was on the phone, which would explain why he hadn’t answered her text. Rather than keep waiting, she cut through the narrow side alley to the small rear parking lot. With his taillights facing the back of the diner, Burt’s white sedan was nosed up to the bank that faced North Jefferson Street.
Rowan quickened her pace and walked up to the driver’s side of his car. Burt sat behind the steering wheel, staring out the windshield.
For a moment Rowan waited for him to glance over and see her, but he didn’t move. Whether it was the lax expression on his face or some deep-rooted instinct, she abruptly understood that he was dead.
She tugged at the door handle. Thankfully it opened. Her heart pounding, she bent down. No matter that her brain was telling her he was already gone, she asked, “Burt, you okay?”
